


Broken Wings

by anna_chronistic



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 19th Century Medicine, Canon Era, Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, i don't know how to end these things, too many jump cuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-20 20:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_chronistic/pseuds/anna_chronistic
Summary: Joly is going through difficult times.  From having a falling out with Musichetta, to doing poorly in medical school, it is just one bad thing after another.  Bossuet, who is an expert on bad things happening at the worst possible times, helps cheer him up.





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song [Broken Wings by Mr. Mister](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpmVp6s-UiY).

**18 September, 1830**

The sphere of medicine was one of the more difficult fields of higher education. Unfortunately, Joly had found that out the hard way, as exemplified by his experience in medical school. Many of the diseases that were read about, he believed to have had himself. As a result, he had often skipped classes under the false pretense of being ill. 

This day in particular showed the adverse effect of Joly skipping more than twenty five percent of lectures. While other students breezed through the lesson, Joly was slower at it, having to stop and check his pulse or look up chemical elements that he had not heard of before.

One of the professors had noticed Joly's odd behavior and consulted him after class.

"Monsieur Joly, you have been absent from many classes," professor Desrouleaux remarked.

"I have never been truant, professor Desrouleaux, I have been sick. And many a time I fear my maladies to be of the contagious type, so I avoid class when possible in the interest of others," Joly said apologetically.

"Because you're _so_ riddled with disease," the professor said sarcastically. "Having a limp does not mean you're at death's door."

Joly sighed at that, as he was getting an idea that his maladies were perceived as excuses to forfeit school.

"I know that you have potential because you are still here. If you truly believed yourself to be chronically ill, then certainly you would check yourself into a hospital instead of attending school. You are a bright student and I want you to do well."

"You are right. I shall attend as many classes as possible," Joly declared.

~~

Richard Gâteaux, a man studying to be a coroner who went to the same medical school as Joly, had overheard Joly's conversation with the professor.

"It was rather rude of him to bring up your physical impairment like that," Gâteaux said.

"Yes, what did _that_ have to do with anything?" Joly said snarkily.

"But he is right, in a way, about your unwarranted absences," Gâteaux pointed out.

"Yes, he is. And I am hoping to resolve this," Joly said. "But ridding myself of anxiety is easier said than done."

"I can see your perspective, Joly," Gâteaux said. "I'm studying to be a coroner, while you are studying to be a doctor. You clearly have the harder job of the two. I only have to deal with patients after they are dead, while you have the stress of handling patients who were living and could potentially die."

"Excellent point. You cannot kill a dead person," Joly said. "Unless you are that death-crazed writer Victor Hugo."

Gâteaux snickered at that. "See, that is one way to cope with anxiety: making jokes. Enjoy the company of the people you love, my friend, and I tell you that your worries will lessen."

"Thank you for the advice, Gâteaux," Joly said, and he headed straight to the flat that he shared with Musichetta and Bossuet.

**Later that evening**

Joly arrived at his apartment expecting to see Bossuet or Musichetta, but neither of them were home yet. He decided to go to bed early that night, so he took some sleeping pills from the medicine cabinet: a jar with a few lozenges laced with barbituric acid. He walked towards his room, tossing the bottle of pills up and down nonchalantly. On the tenth or eleventh toss, he dropped it and it rolled under the bed.

Joly crawled under the bed and discovered that what he had thought was a clean room was actually a result of miscellaneous items being haphazardly pushed under the bed. While he was searching for the pills amongst the clutter, he heard a door open followed by some footsteps toward the room, and Musichetta's contralto voice.

"I am thinking of moving back in with my sister in about two weeks," she said. "I want you to come with me."

"I shall tell Joly then," said another voice. Bossuet.

"No, not him. I want you to come, but not Joly."

The reason why he was not welcome piqued Joly's interest. And made him feel that he was at fault.

"For one, he is the one who would benefit from it the least," she continued. "He already has this place and pays the landlord every month. Additionally, I believe he is the weakest link out of the three of us."

Joly could hear them coming closer to where he was.

"What do you mean the weakest link?" Bossuet asked. "Surely you would not abandon him?"

"Oh, it does not mean that I will no longer be his mistress. It is just that there is something off about him."

Both of them sat on the bed that Joly was under. Joly tried to keep as still as possible and to stop himself from crying.

"You know this, Bossuet—with the constant panic attacks, and him putting on a brave face to try and get me to like him. He's lovely, but he's a basket case."

"Speaking of Joly, where is he?" Bossuet asked. "He is typically already at home at this hour."

From beneath the bed, Joly saw the rapid movements of tiny paws coming towards him. That was Jojo, their pet kitten.

"Oh hello Jojo," Bossuet said. 

The kitten crawled under the bed, and the sheet was lifted shortly after. Joly was then face-to-face with Bossuet and then immediately started sobbing.

"Oh dear," Lesgles said. "You must have heard everything. I am so sorry."

Joly got up from under the bed.

"How could you say such things?" he said to Musichetta, in tears.

Musichetta, shocked at what she just saw, could not come up with a good answer immediately.

"Well that's what you get for spying on us," Musichetta retorted.

"I was not spying on you. I know what this looks like; I just happened to be—gah! Why couldn't you just reject me to my face?"

"I am not cutting you out or rejecting you," Musichetta said. "Of course you, me, and Bossuet will stay together as we have for the past two years."

"That seems very convincing, seeing that I am allegedly the weakest link in your mind," Joly said sarcastically.

"In all the years that I have known you, you were never my type. You are genuinely a kind and intelligent person, but are annoying and overly sensitive, as you are acting right in this moment. That does not in any way mean that I hate you!"

"I have to bend over backwards just to convince you to like me. And yet when I try to be 'your type', you accuse me of being phony. You can dislike things about me, sure, but I do not think you needed to go as far as to call me the weakest link."

"You weren't supposed to hear that!" Musichetta shouted.

"You were going to kick me out anyway, so I guess I'll kick myself out. I'll show you the weakest link yet!"

Joly grabbed only a few clothing items and took the kitten with him as well.

"Joly, don't—" Bossuet began. But it was too late. Joly slammed the door and rushed out of his own home.

**19 September, 1830**

Joly had stayed in an inn the first night of leaving his mistress and Bossuet. He realized that staying in a hotel was too expensive and that inn owners were not fans of guests who tried to smuggle in cats. So the options were either to go back to his house or spend the night in the park.

Joly deeply regretted having his falling out with Musichetta and wanted to apologize and come to a resolution as soon as possible. However, he feared that she was still angry at him. So he decided to give it another day and camp out in the park. Sleeping on something that wasn't a bed for just one night would not kill him, he thought, so long as he was aligned north-south. Plus, he needed to heed his professor's advice and stop worrying about little things that may or may not cause disease.

One of his favorite stray kittens that he liked to feed and play with was at the park too. Joly gave her a piece of chicken and let her play with Jojo while keeping a close eye on the cats. As the night descended, he used his too-big greatcoat that his aunt gave him as a makeshift blanket and had Jojo sleep next to him.

**20 September, 1830**

Joly arrived early in the morning to Bahorel's house with his kitten to reluctantly ask for a favor.

"Hello Joly," Bahorel answered the door.

"Hello Bahorel."

"What brings you here?"

"Well, I need a place for my cat to stay while I am away in medical school. I tried sneaking him into a hotel before and that did not work, so now—you know what, I am getting ahead of myself. I just need him to stay for the afternoon."

"Why can't he stay in your own home?" Bahorel asked.

"It is complicated right now with Musichetta. I'll explain later."

"Ah, so you are having troubles with your mistress," Bahorel drawled. "That happens to everyone, unfortunately. I'll take care of the cat and you can meet me back here when school is over. I think that I can help you with the trouble that you're having with Musichetta."

~~

It was another day at medical school for Joly and his fellow students. The unit that they were focused on now was the anatomy of the skeleton. Due to a lack of resources, the skeletons for the students' lessons were acquired through some dubious legal loopholes. The laws regarding exhumation were much more lax for graves of the poor or of those who were outcast from society. These particular skeletons they were studying were exhumed from graves at the crossroads of a busy Parisian street. Most of the death dates from these graves were from the late 1810's to the early 1820's.

"Be careful with the skeletons, students," said professor Desrouleaux. "The owner of the cemetery's land has allowed us to temporarily exhume them. They shall be reburied by the end of next week."

Each student was given a large box with a name on it, so that they would know where to rebury them. Joly and Gâteaux were both eventually given boxes of bones. 

"Now see, this is an example where your field of study is more difficult than mine," said Joly. "You actually have to find out how they died, while I merely have to identify what each bone is."

"You are right, my friend. I guess I am one of the people who must solve that mystery." 

Gâteaux opened up a box he had been given labeled "Jerôme Rémy Rideau" and looked particularly intrigued. Gâteaux was a handsome and happy-go-lucky person whom women loved. No one would ever guess he were a coroner, except perhaps Gothic women.

"His hyoid bone is broken, which means that he was probably hanged at the gallows," Gâteaux observed, carefully holding the two tiny pieces that the boned had fragmented into.

"It is impressive that you could discern the cause of Monsieur Rideau's death solely from the bones. I did not know that was possible. If I do die of some disease, then I hope you'll have the pleasure of autopsying me," Joly said.

"I assure you that will never happen," said Gâteaux.

Joly had a box labeled "Corbin Régis Javert", but once he opened it, he was brought back to reality. The sides of the skull were cracked, and there was a single bullet in the box along with the bones. Despite not being anywhere near an expert on skeletons, Joly knew how this man had met his demise, and was taken aback by it. It certainly made him aware of why he could not be a coroner.

The professor went on with the lesson. "Our focus will be primarily on the axial skeleton, since that is the place where the most severe injuries typically occur..."

~~

Joly was surprised that Bahorel had decided to take him to Staub's to get new clothes to impress Musichetta. So much for advice.

Joly was in fact already decent looking—shaggy blond hair, brown eyes, far shorter than average and rather thin. He was middle class yet fashionably dressed in a way that onlookers might think he were a bourgeois man. He often wore gloves and carried a cane that doubled as an accessory and for correcting his uneven gait.

"Have you tried on those trousers?" Bahorel asked Joly.

"Yes, but I must say that they were rather tight fit," he said. Joly stepped out of the dressing room.

"They are supposed to fit like that," Bahorel said. "They look good on you."

"It looks like I have a big arse," Joly complained.

"No, you're tiny," Bahorel said. "You just have a small waist, not a big arse."

"I suppose you are right, Bahorel. I don't even have to wear a corset."

The trousers still looked good on Joly, despite him being 1.5 meters tall standing on his short leg and 1.55 meters standing on his long leg. Joly, now barefoot, kept switching back and forth between his short leg and his long leg as if he were bobbing up and down while sailing at sea.

"As much as I enjoy instantly getting taller, I must continue wearing my corrective shoes," he said.

"Oh, they have nice shoes over here, too. And the height of the heels varies considerably, so you might find a good pair here," said Bahorel.

Joly browsed the shoe section of the store and found two boots that looked roughly alike, but had different heights of the heels. Joly tried both of them on simultaneously, and discovered that one was indeed about five centimeters taller than the other. But the shoes were way too big for his small feet.

"I might get shoes at another place because my feet are too small...just like Musichetta's," Joly sighed.

"Oh, Joly, do not be so sad. You know she still loves you, and you obviously love her."

"You are right, Bahorel. I shall return to them tonight, and whatever happens, happens."

~~

After purchasing the clothes from Staub's and picking up his kitten from Bahorel's house, he decided to cut his hair as well. His once shoulder-length hair was now chin-length, which made his neck appear to be longer. After his appearance was altered enough, Joly finally began walking towards his flat that he had not been in for two days. On his way back, however, he stumbled across a horrifying sight.

The stray kitten that he played with and fed and petted was dead. It was indeed the same ginger kitten as before. It seemed as if she were attacked by a larger animal. 

Joly sat on a park bench and cried. Partially from sadness, and partially from sheer anxiety for all the horrid things that came crashing down on him at once. While his face was concealed with his hands, he felt an arm around his shoulder.

"You are having a difficult day, aren't you?" said a voice that he knew to be Bossuet's.

"Y-yes, I am really," said Joly, who was clearly very distraught, his voice shaking and his nose running.

"I am unlikable, I ruin the relationships with the people I love, and I am too much of a coward to come back and resolve them. I'm at the bottom ten percent of my class, and my professor thinks I believe myself to be riddled with disease, which is in fact true. I am a total failure."

"Joly, you really believe that to be true?"

"Yes," he sniffled.

"Bad things happen to everyone, unfortunately. I am just accustomed to it so much that I have become somewhat desensitized to it. If this makes you feel any better, I have had five ex-mistresses in total, all of whom probably want to see me burn."

"Five?"

"Yes, five," Bossuet confirmed. "And at law school, I am quite literally dead last in my class. I have not received a passing grade in any class since I was a teenager. At this rate, I won't graduate from university until I am 75. Even though I already look 40 when I turn 27 next month."

"And you stay relatively jolly in the midst of all of this? My nickname is yours for the taking, Monsieur André Lesgles!"

"I am honored," said Bossuet. "If it is, then perhaps I shall somehow get all the cats in the neighborhood to like me."

"Oh," Joly said, more solemnly as the reminder hit him with a wave of sadness. "My little stray cat died today, yet I have not even come up with a name for her."

"Do you want to now?" Bossuet asked.

"Molly, I suppose," Joly said, his eyes downcast.

The medical student was still sniffling a bit, and his body was still shaken by the remnants of him crying, but he looked much more at peace now. Bossuet took a handkerchief from Joly's pocket and held it to Joly's nose.

"Blow," he said.

Joly hesitated for a second and then blew his nose gently.

"That's so unsanitary," Joly remarked.

"I know," Bossuet said. "It would be, especially if it were a random madman who is probably riddled with disease. However, I do not think _you're_ riddled with disease."

"That is the strangest compliment ever, but I guess I will take it," Joly said.

"Speaking of compliments, we both really enjoy having you with us. Musichetta would be delighted to see you," said Lesgles.

"Then I guess I should change my plans. You see, I was going to go home and cry and perhaps blow my nose by myself," Joly joked. "But since I trust that this reunion should be a happy event, I shall come back with a smile on my face."

Bossuet and Joly took the short walk back to their flat. When they finally got there, Joly was jittery yet determined. He took several deep breaths before knocking on the door.

"Hello Matthieu," Musichetta answered the door. That was rather odd, using his first name.

"Hello Belafonte," Joly said back. Musichetta giggled.

"I am very sorry for eavesdropping, overreacting, and going missing for two days. I hope that you are able to forgive me," Joly said.

"I most certainly do," said Musichetta. "I should apologize, too. I now realize that I was being too shallow. And I should have never called you the weakest link. We have both missed you while you were gone."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose," said Joly.

"You've changed a bit since you have been absent. I like what you did with your...neck," said Musichetta.

"Oh," Joly laughed. "Bahorel suggested that I get new clothes and I thought 'why not get a haircut too?' Hopefully my neck hasn't actually gotten longer. But if it did, I'd at least be taller."

"I must say, I did not notice your haircut at all, Joly," Bossuet said.

"I'm sure Jojo would notice my hair because he will miss clawing at it" Joly said. "But a dog probably wouldn't care. Dogs are much tougher than cats and could probably teach them a lesson in resilience. And I know how Musichetta loves dogs."

"But the landlord does not allow large pets," said Bossuet. "You'd have to be a baron to have a dog as a pet. And additionally, you are only fond of cats as pets."

"There is this small Mexican dog with pointy ears that looks like a cat, so perhaps it somehow fits into both categories," said Joly. "I forgot the name of the dog, though"

"How on Earth would you get a Mexican dog?" Musichetta asked.

"Frankly, I have no idea," Joly admitted.

"Well it's the thought that counts, Jolllly," Musichetta said. She hugged him, and Bossuet hugged the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> \- [Historically, burial at cross-roads was the method of disposing of executed criminals and suicides](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burial#Burial_at_cross-roads). Superstition also played a part in the selection of crossroads in the burial of suicides. Folk belief often held such individuals could rise as some form of undead (such as a vampire) and burying them at crossroads would inhibit their ability to find and wreak havoc on their living relations and former associates.  
> \- There is a small Easter egg in here: the skeleton is supposed to be Javert's father who committed suicide years ago.


End file.
